Page 72 of Veil of Secrets

He nods, barely. “You didn’t need help.”

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t want it.”

He studies me. The blade still in his hand. The light catching just enough blood to remind us we’ve crossed too many lines to step back now.

I move closer.

My hand slides from his forearm to his chest.

Then I rest it flat over his heart.

“Ours,” I say.

His mouth shifts. Not quite a smile.

But it’s real.

“Ours.”

We don’t kiss.

We don’t speak.

But we both know the night just made a promise.

And we’re going to collect.

The stairwell’s dim, the air heavy with spilled liquor and smoke that followed us from the club. My robe slips, baring my shoulder. I don’t fix it. Nico’s eyes flick to it, then back to mine.

“You hurt?” he asks, voice low.

I shake my head. “Not even close.”

His gaze lingers, checking anyway. Like he needs to see it for himself.

I step closer. My fingers curl into his shirt, feeling the heat of him underneath. “You didn’t blink out there.”

“Neither did you.” His hand shifts, the blade finally sliding into its sheath.

I feel the weight of that choice. He’s not letting go of me, not even now.

“They’ll come for us,” I say. “Tommy’s crew. Vince. All of them.”

“Let them.” His voice is steady, like it’s already decided.

My chest tightens. Not fear. Something else. Something that makes my pulse race.

I lean in, my lips close to his ear. “You’re with me, then? All the way?”

His hand finds my waist, fingers pressing just enough to ground me. “All the way.”

I pull back, meet his eyes. They’re sharp, unflinching. Like he sees every piece of me and isn’t turning away.

“Good,” I say. “Because I’m not running.”

He nods once. “Neither am I.”

The shouting upstairs gets louder. Footsteps echo, heavy and fast. Someone’s coming.

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